


Crude and Proud Creatures Baying

by A_Graph_You_Look_At



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Monster of the Week, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, The Winchesters (Supernatural) in Beacon Hills (Teen Wolf), Underage Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Graph_You_Look_At/pseuds/A_Graph_You_Look_At
Summary: Something's going bump in Beacon Hills, killing people and leaving strange handprint-shaped burns.  The Winchesters decide to investigate.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 23





	Crude and Proud Creatures Baying

“I don’t know what to tell you boys. This is the third in a month and honestly- I don’t know what’s going on in this town.” 

“Here’s to hoping we can help you out with that, Sheriff.” Dean didn’t have to fake sincerity in his voice; all in all, he felt bad for the guy. Small town sheriff, way out of his depth in a town full to bursting with paranormal activity. Stilinski seemed like the good kind.

“Now, when did this all start?” Dean let Sam -Agent Grayson today- ask the questions, opting for a look around the Sheriff’s office instead. It was a small place in general but it felt cozy rather than cramped. Stacks of papers and manilla folders littered the desk, hastily thrown into piles that Dean suspected weren’t headed for the “Done” basket any time soon.

“Animal attacks?” Sam’s voice dragged Dean back to the conversation, zeroing back in on the Sheriff.

“We thought the trouble was over when a local hunter shot and killed a mountain lion that had found its way to the high school. But it just got weirder after that.”

“Weird how?” Dean interrupted. “The attacks continued?”

“You could say that,” Sheriff Stilinski heaved a sigh, brow furrowed, and Dean felt another pang of sympathy. “A couple of kids got trapped in the high school overnight and there were a few more weird deaths, but it all came to a head when a girl was attacked at prom, the same night a man disappeared from his hospital bed without a trace.”

“The girl’s name?” Sam asked, already scratching out notes on his goody-two-shoes notepad. Dean remembered Sam digging into the town’s newspapers, the headlines only getting more and more indicative of things going bump in the night in little old Beacon Hills. Hopefully they’d be able to get copies of the police reports for some more detail. That is where the Devil is, Dean thought and huffed to himself, more like was now. 

“Lydia Martin. She’ll be a junior come fall.” Stilinski’s face was a mix of worry and fondness. Dean figured he had to be a dad.

“And the missing man?”

“Peter Hale.” More scribbles from Sam. 

“Yeah, how does someone disappear like that? Security that lax at Beacon Hills General?” Dean half-joked. He’d broken out of his fair share of small-town hospitals.

“Well, the thing is, they weren’t too worried about that on his ward given that he’d been in a coma for the past 6 years.”

Dean could only stare. The Sheriff was looking somewhere between smug and sympathetic. “As I said: I don’t know what to tell you.” Dean pulled his jaw back up from the floor and glanced over to see Sam in the same situation. Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean nodded. This was definitely their kind of town. 

Stilinski leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms, continuing, “and that’s not even the half of it. Not long after Miss Martin’s attack and Mr. Hale’s disappearance, that’s when things got really weird.”

“Those cases of paralysis, you mean?” Dean jumped in, remembering the headlines and incident reports Sam had been able to dig up. Stilinski nodded.

“Several vics showing a potent paralytic in tox reports and an eyewitness who experienced the effects without uh...”

“Becoming another vic,” Dean finished for him. The worried look was back on the Sheriff’s face.

“The witness,” Sam said hesitantly, “the report said-”  
“Stilinski, I know. My 16 year old son saw one of the victims crushed to death under a car jack.” And Bingo was his name-o, Dean thought not a little bitterly. 

“Horrible thing for a kid to see,” Dean said, trying and failing not to think of all the things he’d seen by 16. 

“No kidding,’ the Sheriff laughed a sharp, mirthless laugh and shook his head with a sad smile. “Kid’s been through a lot, but what are you gonna do?”

Before Dean could reply, the door to the office banged open, the blinds crashing against the frame. A teenage boy stood in the doorway, buzzed hair with a plaid shirt and an air of aggressive awkwardness. At least it seemed aggressive at the moment what with his eyes deer-in-headlights wide and his mouth open in shock. 

“Stiles, what have I said about barging into my office?” Well, that’s a Dad voice if I ever heard one. The kid-Stiles- tried to compose himself, eyes darting between Sam and Dean with not a little suspicion. 

“Sorry, Dad. I just, uh, wanted to stop by and remind you that I’m headed to Scott’s for the weekend. Oh, and to drop this off,” Stiles held up a brown paper bag. “So, yeah...” he trailed off, still looking more at Sam and Dean than at his dad. Dean smiled his best cordial, tightlipped smile and the kid narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Jesus, Stiles, give me that.” The Sheriff stepped forward and snatched the bag from his son’s hand, trying and failing to take a discreet peek at the contents. Stiles’s focus shifted from eyeing Dean warily to his dad. 

“It’s vegetarian lasagna, Dad, and you’ll love it. And even if you don’t love it, you’ll eat it. Or else.” His tone was so dry, it could have been toast. The look Stilinski gave his son was equally cutting. The battle of wills continued for a minute before Stilinski sighed and shook his head with a look of warm exasperation and Stiles’s face broke into a shit-eating grin. 

“Have a good time at Scott’s. Say hi to Melissa for me.”

“Will do, Cap’n,” Stiles half-saluted and backed towards the door, keeping his eyes on the two strangers in his dad’s office for as long as possible before disappearing around the corner. 

The Sheriff laughed, setting the sack dinner on his desk and turning back to face Sam and Dean, “That kid’s gonna be the death of me.” If all this guy got to eat was vegetarian lasagna, then Dean would have to agree. 

“Oh hey, one more thing,” the three men looked back to the still open doorway where Stiles was poking his head into the office again. “Don’t think I don’t know about the donuts in the break room,” and Stiles disappeared again with a wink and a wave.

“Get outta here, kid,” Stilinski called after him half-heartedly, then to Sam and Dean, “Sorry about him. Kinda comes and goes around here as he likes.” Something told Dean that the Sheriff didn’t mind all that much. “But back to business, I guess,” the Sheriff pushed off the front of his desk and went to sit behind it, ruffling through the assorted stacks of paper. “Here are the case files for the latest deaths,” he said, offering Sam and Dean matching manilla folders. “Now, I’m willing to let you boys go hog wild with this. I’ve seen odd stuff, like I said, but there’s been nothing like this.” 

Opening his folder, Dean fought the urge to drop the folder and yank down his sleeve to touch the handprint on his shoulder that looked surprisingly like the crime scene photos. Sam had said something about handprints on the bodies, but Dean hadn’t known...

“These handprints, there wasn’t any biological material left on the vics? Skin, fingerprints even?”

“No and no. There weren’t even traces of iron or other metals to suggest a brand of some kind. From all we can tell, nothing actually touched the victims or their rooms for that matter. No broken locks or windows, no dirt tracked in by conveniently sized boots,” the Sheriff huffed a laugh that sounded more like exhaustion. “For all we know, whatever did this is nothing more than a gust of wind.”

Dean’s eyes darted up at Stilinski’s word choice. Whatever over whoever. Stilinski may be in the dark, but he obviously wasn’t stupid. Sam started asking something relevant, but Dean’s mind drifted back to the handprint, making a mental note to pray to Cas. Dean didn’t want this to be the work of a rogue angel, but he also didn’t want to rule it out. He knew Heaven was getting chaotic, but maybe it was worse than he’d thought. 

“Thank you so much for your help, Sheriff. You’ve got our number to call us with any news?” Dean tuned back in as Sam brought their little briefing to an end. Stilinski nodded and stood up behind his desk. 

“Thank you. Hell, I dislike feds as much as the next small town cop, but you boys seem like the good kind.” 

“We’ll help you out best we can, sir,” Dean said, his respect for the Sheriff growing each moment. “There’s a lot we’ve seen and a lot of it’s a lot weirder than this.” Stilinski raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded. 

“Fair enough. Good luck, and I’ll call you if anything new comes up.” A last nod and Dean and Sam were walking out of the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department with folders in hand. If Dean was being honest with himself, he knew it wasn’t much to go on, even for them. He knew they’d find something, though, whether it be this thing or the cause of the past few months’ oddities. More likely than not, they were connected, just as everything seemed to be. He’d once said that “accidents don’t just happen accidentally” and even though it had sounded dumb at the time, it was true. There was no such thing as a coincidence, especially not once you knew the reality of the world.

***  
Stiles didn’t bother to knock anymore, not here anyway. What was the use when your werewolf comrade could hear and smell you from a mile away? Instead Stiles just walked in, taking care to close the door behind him before wandering farther into the house. “I brought chicken nuggets!” he called, passing through the disused kitchen and into the slightly less neglected living room. Assorted books and printouts were scattered across the floor just as he’d left them, and Stiles settled himself back into the beanbag he’d insisted on bringing, because despite some people’s belief, hardwood floors were not something upon which he could comfortably park his ass for hours on end. 

“C’mon wolf boy, chow time,” Stiles said again, pulling his burger and fries from the bag and then tossing the remaining nuggets and fries at a clear space on the floor. Unfortunately, Stiles overshot the toss and watched the greasy paper bag land on its side, fries spilling onto the map of Beacon Hills’ ley lines that Deaton had loaned them. He scrambled out of the beanbag to clear the fries before they could leave a stain, but another set of hands snatched the spilled fries off the map before Stiles could reach them. 

“I thought I said I wanted a burger,” Derek frowned into the bag, pulling out a box of chicken nuggets. Stiles nodded and sat back in his beanbag, biting into his own burger and answering with a full mouth.

“Yeah they were out of burgers.” 

Derek glared at Stiles, then at the burger in his hands, then back at Stiles. Stiles just smiled wide and pulled a second bag out of his backpack. Derek grabbed it, dropping the bag of chicken nuggets at Stiles’ feet. 

“What no thank you?” Stiles asked in mock offense.

“For what, getting my order wrong?”

“For pranking you, dude! You gotta admit, I got you this time.  
Derek rolled his eyes but sat down and started unwrapping his burger. Stiles could practically see the irritation melt away as soon as the guy took a bite. Werewolves really took hangry to the extreme.

“Buying yourself a burger did disguise the smell of mine,” Derek said casually. If it was anyone else, Stiles would have pressed for him to finish the compliment. Instead, Stiles just smiled and let the man eat in peace. Or he was going to let him eat in peace before he remembered-

“There were feds at Dad’s office today.” Derek didn’t look up from his food, but some of the irritation was back despite the quarter pound patty in his hands. “Looked pretty legit.”

“We’ll just have to hope they’re here for something else. There’s other missing person cases in the area.”

Stiles couldn’t suppress a snort. “Yeah, since when do feds care about small town missing persons?” 

Derek didn’t respond as he finished eating and consolidated his and Stiles’ garbage into one of the now empty bags. Then he straightened out the ley line map in front of him and started reaching for a stack of papers behind him. Stiles watched as Derek got back into his Research Mode. After a minute, Derek glanced up to meet Stiles’ eyes and raised his eyebrows at the stack of crime scene photos next to Stiles. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and settled into his own version of Research Mode, popping a chicken nugget in his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll just have to find the thing going bump in the night before it can bump anyone else off.”

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts since 2014. the recent finale sent me into a second full-blown spn phase, strong enough to make me want to actually write this fic. My original notes say this is set in the summer of 2011 meaning between s2 and s3A of teen wolf and season 6 spn (2014 me thought it was important to note that it's between 6.17 and 6.18). for anyone worried about 16 year old stiles, don't be. sterek is endgame in this universe (as in every universe) but it's all pre-slash/slow-burn type stuff. 
> 
> titles from To Be Alone by Hozier


End file.
